


I'd Do It For You

by Quoth_the_Raven_Nevermore_Nevermore



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cannibalism, Case Fic, Comforting Will, Dark Will Graham, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Prompt Fic, Sick Hannibal, Sickfic, Vulnerable Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:57:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quoth_the_Raven_Nevermore_Nevermore/pseuds/Quoth_the_Raven_Nevermore_Nevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will asks something of Hannibal without knowing the consequences and it leads him down a road he had never truly wanted to travel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure that I missed some things when I was editing simply because I've been staring at this for the better part of three or four weeks so if you catch an error please tell me so I can fix it!

"Hannibal...."

Will ran his hand up and down Hannibal's back, gently shushing him.

The sound of Hannibal's harsh breathing echoed across the black marble that was the predominate feature of the downstairs bathroom. Hannibal gagged for a final time bringing up nothing except for spit. He coughed once then twice and finally leaned away from the toilet bowl.

"I'm very sorry for that, Will."

Hannibal panted. Will grabbed a washcloth and handed it to Hannibal who wiped at his mouth, "why are you apologizing? You're sick."

"Still," Hannibal says.

Will sighs and pulls Hannibal back against his chest, placing his chin on Hannibal's head and intertwining their hands, his thumb stroking soft circles into Hannibal's wrist, pinching at a pressure point that was supposed to help with nausea, he briefly lifted his head and kissed the crown of Hannibal's head.

"Come on, you can't have anything left in you. Let's go to bed," Will said, pushing Hannibal's hair away from his forehead.

Hannibal gave him a look and Will sighed. "You haven't finished eating, Will."

"Yes, well," he said with a grunt as he stood, offering Hannibal a hand which Hannibal took gratefully. "I'm not that hungry right now. I'd much rather sleep."

"Please do not let me spoil your dinner."

"You're not spoiling anything. Now come on, brush your teeth and come to bed."

While Hannibal was brushing his teeth Will changed the sheets on the bed and closed the blinds, bathing the room in comfortable darkness. He tossed the old sheets in the hamper along with his clothes before slipping into bed. Hannibal joined him a few moments later curling into Will.

Will sighed slightly, rubbing his hand up and down Hannibal's back. Hannibal had been sick for about three weeks and Will was starting to worry, whatever bug he’d caught had its pincers sunk in deep and was refusing to let go.

"Hannibal..." Hannibal doesn't answer only burrows further down into the pillow, skin clammy against Will's side. Will sighs and rolls over onto his stomach. "I'm worried."

"Stop," Hannibal says and he must realize that that had come out somewhat rude because he sighs, “I’m sorry, Will. That was uncalled for. Let's not talk about it now, I'm tired."

Will pierces his lips but lets it drop and slowly slips away into sleep, lulled by the sound of their breathing perfectly in sink.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Hannibal hears Will’s breathing change he finally cautiously rolls over, he wishes he found sleep to be as easy and forthcoming as Will seemed to. He tosses and turns for a while but after an hour he gives up on sleep and extracts himself.

He pauses standing over his sleeping lover. It would be so easy – he knows how he’d do it in the same way that he knows that he would never, could never, actually kill Will. Will Graham who takes monsters to bed and sleeps deeply. Hannibal sighs softly, a barely there gust of air, before pulling the blankets higher up on Will so that only his head was visible. He gently pushes Will’s curls away from his eyes and slowly makes his way out of the bedroom.

His stomach turns over and he swallows deeply, warily. He knows it’s not getting better tonight. It's not the first time that he contemplates slipping away and fixing this before it had a chance to go farther, nor is it the first time he stops himself. Will — he'd been serious.  
All jokes aside Hannibal knew that if he slipped up Will would be gone the moment he knew. He groaned into his hands and sunk into the overstuffed chair near the empty fireplace with a grunt.

He wondered if Will would feel differently if he knew what his ultimatum was doing to Hannibal, was Will Graham’s morality strong enough to withstand that? Was this still a morality issue? Hannibal doesn’t know. He thinks Will loves him, but love is rarely enough and Will is a survivor through and through. Once he’d enjoyed that, had respected that drive to survive so much like and yet so different from his own, but back then he’d thought that Will would eventually come around to see things Hannibal’s way.

Now he knew that that same drive would mean that if Hannibal slipped then Will would be gone, whether he went to the FBI at that point or not would be moot. Hannibal would have lost.

He thinks of Will’s laugh, what sweat looks like on his skin, glistening between his shoulder blades, the smell of the woods fresh on him when he comes back from fishing. This was a small price to pay when compared to a life without Will Graham in it.


	3. Chapter 3

Will woke up to an empty bed, a cool empty spot where there should have warmth. He rolled over, the blankets tangling around his legs, and glanced at the bedside table.

3:42 AM.

He sighed and slowly extracted himself from the blankets. He wondered if tonight would be the night that he discovered that Hannibal had slipped up.

Will creeps down the stairs and sighs in relief when he sees the study light on. It wouldn’t be tonight. He finds Hannibal asleep with an arm thrown over his eyes, a large medical textbook precariously balanced in his lap and a large white knitted blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders, spilling over into his lap, bright against the pinstriped pajama pants he favored. He looks exhausted. There are deep circles beneath his eyes and his cheekbones stand out more prominently than they had a week ago.

Will takes the book from slack fingers and places it on the desk, the hard cover making a soft thud. Kneeling down he gently touched Hannibal’s cheek, stroking it softly until weary eyes open. Will smiles slightly, "Hey, what are you doing down here? Come on back to bed.”  
Hannibal nods and follows Will out of the study, flicking off the lamp as he goes. 

They climb the stairs slowly and Will yawns. Neither of them are getting enough sleep lately, despite Will falling asleep easily Hannibal’s absence never fails to wake him and Hannibal more often than not abandoned their bed for the study. They stumble into their bedroom and Hannibal sighs. The blankets are all twisted and he makes a show of straightening them before slipping into bed, Will follows him, an arm thrown over Hannibal's waist.


	4. Chapter 4

Hannibal is so tense lately. It unnerves Will.

Hannibal hasn’t acted this way in a long while, not since the very beginning. He doesn’t laugh or smile as much anymore and Will finds that he misses it. He hadn’t realized how emotive Hannibal had become until he defaulted back to his blank mask. Will couldn’t even seem to startle a laugh out of him.

If it was just that Will thinks he could withstand it with grace – after all, all couples fight, even if they are a serial killer and his empath lover, but it wasn’t just Hannibal shutting down for lack of a better term. Hannibal had even stopped sleeping with Will, and that wasn't even counting in their sex life, or lack thereof, it was the fact that they hadn't slept in the same bed in close to a month.

Even in the wake of Will’s grand revelation – when they were sure one of them was going to snap – they’d shared a bed. It might not have been the most comfortable atmosphere but – back then – Will could count upon waking up with Hannibal wrapped up in his arms, Hannibal’s leg between Will’s. He could always count on the comfort of having Hannibal breathing against his neck, soft and rhythmic, and he could draw strength from it.

He’d been sure they’d survive it, and they had, but even then Hannibal hadn’t pulled away like this. Will felt like he was living with a ghost, Hannibal was always up and gone before him, the only evidence of his presence being the plate with the remnants of a vegetarian omelet in the sink and the coffee that was always left in the pot for Will.

Dinner is a silent affair that more often than not is prepared by Will. Will makes dishes that he hopes will fill out the hollows in Hannibal’s cheeks, even though it doesn’t seem to be working. They make small talk about their day’s and switch off who does the dishes each night as they have for the entirety of the time they have lived together.

Hannibal retires early more often than not lately, heading to the guest room.

Will at a loss of what to do flips on the – up until recently – rarely used television and watches mindless sitcoms until he finally feels tired at which point he climbs the stairs to spend a night in a bed that feels like a continent, vast and uninhabited, without Hannibal beside him.

They don’t talk about it but Will knows something is coming.


	5. Chapter 5

Will is exhausted.

They’d pulled the sixth body out of the river this morning, bearing the distinctive markings of what the press was calling ‘The Siren Killer’ and they were no closer to stopping him.  
The most frustrating part was that the only distinctive mark was the brutality and anger that was present in each killing which didn't leave them much to go on, six women who had to be identified by their teeth because the water had erased their fingerprints and the killer had desecrated the face until it was nothing put a bloody slash.

Jack had let him go early when he had assured him that he wasn't getting anything new from this scene and Will had cancelled his class earlier that morning because he was sure that he’d be tied up all day. As he drove a plan started to take root in his head, it would be nice, he thought, if he had dinner on the table before Hannibal got home. Surprise him with his favorite dishes sans the human flesh. He briefly thought of stopping off at the grocery store but he was fairly confident that everything he would need was already in the fridge, Hannibal insisting on it.

Will hit the button on his keys to open the garage and parked inside, mind racing a mile a minute. He was so caught up in his own head that it took him a minute to realize that Hannibal’s dark car was sitting in the garage, empty.

Will frowned because he knew that Hannibal hadn’t been home when Will received the call of another crime scene at 7 that morning. Will hadn’t been surprised because he knew Hannibal had an appointment at 8 with some patient and it was a forty-five minute drive to his office, but he was surprised that he was home because he knew that he had appointments scheduled until 6.

It was barely three in the afternoon.

Will frowned and unlocked the front door, depositing his coat and bag in the front closet and his keys in the little bowl on the kitchen counter.

Will checked the office first but the lights were all off. The living room and kitchen were similarly vacant. Will frowned and made his way up the stairs.

"Hannibal?" he called. The door to the master bedroom was open a crack and Will stepped inside, finding the bed a mess of twisted blankets and sheets like he’d left it this morning. However he hadn't left the light on in their bathroom.

Will opened the door and sighed. "Hannibal," he breathes, stepping inside, his heart in his throat.

Hannibal had a blanket thrown over his shoulders and undressed down to his boxers, his head resting on the porcelain seat of the toilet. The entire room smelled like stale sickness and Will wrinkled his nose and quickly opened the window before sliding down behind Hannibal. 

Will," Hannibal says, his maroon eyes bleary and bloodshot. "You're home early."

"Yeah, how long have you been in here?” Hannibal doesn't answer, instead he lifts his head quickly and dry heaves a few times before he finally gives a productive heave and brings up a trickle of bile.

Hannibal sunk backwards then, giving Will barely enough time to catch his head so that it didn’t hit the tiled floor.

Hannibal's eyes were closed and he was horrendously pale, the bile on his lips adding to his rather lifeless appearance and Will feels cold because for a moment, to Will at least, he looked far too much like the corpse that they'd pulled out of the river that morning.

“Tai tiesiog mėsa, Will. Kodėl jūs nesuprantate, kad? Aš serga ir pavargę vėmimas, nes savo moralę.”

Will doesn't know what Hannibal is saying in what must be Lithuanian but the gag that followed is clear enough to Will. He barely has time to get Hannibal sitting up before more yellow tinted liquid spills forth from his mouth as he heaves, his stomach muscles straining under Will's hands.

"Shit, Hannibal."

Hannibal finishes and spits before sinking backwards. Will catches him again, falling back on his haunches so that Hannibal's head is on his knees.

They need to talk, Will decides, soon. But not now, now it's time for bed. He pinched at the skin on top of Hannibal's hand pleased to find that at least he didn't seem to be too dehydrated which meant that he was at least keeping down water.

"Can you walk?"

Hannibal nods, and here is where Will makes a mistake.

He helps Hannibal to his feet and leaves him at the sink swishing mouthwash while Will goes to fix the bed. He's almost done fixing the pillows when he hears the loud thump.  
Time freezes and so does Will’s blood. He feels like he's turning in slow motion when he knows that he's really not. Even worse he knows what he is going to see. It's Hannibal crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.


	6. Chapter 6

Will doesn't quite run but he doesn't walk either. Before he knows it he's on his knees trying to rouse Hannibal, slapping gently at his cheek Will deftly ran the fingers of his other hand over the back of Hannibal's skull. He doesn’t feel any obvious bumps and there is no blood but that didn't mean much.

Finally after what must have been only a few minutes but what felt like a few lifetimes Hannibal’s eyes open.

"What happened?" He asks.

"You fainted." Hannibal briefly looks like he's going to argue but decides against it. Instead he pushes himself up onto his elbows and licks at his chapped lips. "I'm sorry for this, Will."

"Don't apologize for this," Will growls. "Does your head hurt?"

Hannibal's hand comes to rub at the back of his head feeling for bumps and shakes his head "It is fine." Will nods taking private humor in Hannibal's thick skull actually being useful, "come on then, let's get you into bed."

Slowly Hannibal makes his way back to bed where Will makes quick work of pulling back the recently straightened covers and Hannibal sinks into the pillows gratefully. Will pulls the covers up over them both and curls up against Hannibal's side, his hands stroking the hair away from his eyes.

"What is on your mind, Will?"

"I'm worried about you, Hannibal."

"I believe I told you before not to worry. I will be fine." Will places a kiss on Hannibal's forehead. "Maybe, but you're not okay now."

Hannibal hums deep in his throat. "I'm serious, Hannibal. I need to know what's going on, I feel like you're wasting away in front of my eyes and there's nothing I can do to stop it. You’re not talking to me, and we haven’t slept in the same bed in a month and a half. What is going on? Have I fucked up that badly by asking you to stop?"

“No, this is - do not blame yourself. You had every reason to ask me to stop whether I like the reasoning or not. Do not worry about me, Will. All will be well soon enough.”  
What does that mean?"

Hannibal rolls away from Will, then, making a show of getting comfortable but Will is determined. He pulls Hannibal back over onto his back and pulls them both up until their backs are resting against the headboard.

“What does that mean, Hannibal?”

"It means that my body is still getting used to the change in diet."

"Change in diet?"

Hannibal listed sideways and nuzzled his head into the hollow of Will's neck, quite obviously exhausted. "Meat from a cow is different than that from a more exotic source."  
Will would swear on his life that his heart actually stopped beating for a moment.

“Hannibal…” Hannibal doesn't answer, he's fast asleep against Will's chest, skin clammy and cool. Will slowly repositions himself and Hannibal so that they are once again lying down. He’s killing him, Will realizes wrapping himself around Hannibal, needing to feel his body against his, arms winding themselves tightly around Hannibal’s middle. He'd done this, he was killing Hannibal.

The blowup that had led up to it had been epic, even by their standards. His dissatisfaction had been growing for some time when it had bubbled over into an argument over the dinner table. They'd screamed at each other over the liver of one unlucky sales associate, neither one willing to budge. That was until he played his trump card. He threatened to leave. This was not going to be the rest of his life. He couldn't deal with the uncertainty that one day a swat team would bust down their red door and ruin the little life they'd carved out for themselves. Hannibal...caved after that.

And now – He presses his face into Hannibal’s hair. It smells clean, like sandalwood and orange. His face twists and he can feel the tears on his cheeks, they burn him to the core.  
What is he supposed to do? Despite his objections being less moral and more about safety he can’t in good consciousness let Hannibal out to stalk the rude once again. But – what else was be supposed to do? Hannibal may be convinced that he’d adjust but Will wasn’t. It had been four months of this.

Will sobs, he’d been blind and purposefully so. He noticed things, sure. He noticed that their meals were less fancy, based more around the actual meal than presentation. He noticed the looks Hannibal would give Will, the way his eyes hardened and his lip would curl back slightly. It was resentment and Will had thought it was just because Hannibal missed killing. How stupid he’d been. He’s killing the man he loves.

Will sobs unable to catch his breath, his chest heaving, and it’s a testament to how exhausted Hannibal is that he doesn’t wake.

I’m sorry, he wants to scream, I’m sorry, Hannibal. But there will be no more killing.


	7. Chapter 7

Tonight’s a bad night, Will decides, when he is woken for the second time that night by Hannibal bolting from bed to be sick.

Hannibal had confessed after much prodding that the reason that he’d taken to sleeping in the guest room was because he had not wanted to wake Will in the middle of the night. Will had put an end to that quite quickly, if Hannibal was suffering because of something Will had done than Will wasn’t going to just ignore it.

He hadn’t been aware, however, how often he was up and how little he was actually keeping down. He runs his hands over his face and tosses back the blankets before making his way across the room in the dark. He knocks once on the door before stepping inside, Hannibal is slumped by tub, his hand resting against his stomach.

The window had been opened the first time he’d been sick that night so now, hours later, the room was practically an icebox. Will resisted the urge to rub his hands up and down his arms in the hopes of warming them.

“Hey,” will says. “Did you get sick? Do you need anything?” Hannibal blinks at him for a moment before shaking his head. Will nods even though he doesn’t quite know which question Hannibal was answering and slides down next to him, Hannibal leaning sideways to rest his head against Will’s sternum.

Will sighs and strokes his hands over Hannibal’s hair- it’s thinner than it used to be and more brittle to the touch, Will hates it – his nose, his cheeks and then down and around his neck, before finally settling and rubbing calm soft circles into Hannibal’s back. They stay like that for a while, Hannibal breathing hot and fast against his throat, little pained groans cutting Will to the core.

Suddenly Hannibal bolts up and moves to hover over the toilet, Will moves with him and he continues to rub up and down Hannibal’s back, his fingers gentle but firm as Hannibal heaved, his muscles straining under Will’s hands.

“You’re okay,” Will shushes. “Everything is okay. I’m here.”

Hannibal lurches a final time and finally stills, panting as he stared down into the mess of partially digested soup. Will balls up a piece of toilet paper and handed it to Hannibal wordlessly, Hannibal took it and wiped at his mouth before tossing it and flushing the mess away.

“Are you done?” Hannibal nodded. “You want to go back to bed?” Hannibal nodded and pushed himself up, Will hovering behind him, the thump as Hannibal's head had hit the tile a few weeks ago still ingrained in his mind. Hannibal swished mouthwash around and spit before making his way out of the bathroom and Will watched anxiously as he slowly made his way across the room and back to the bed, standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Hannibal walked like someone twice his age and Will swallowed roughly around the lump in his throat.

He wanted to rush over and help him but he knew that Hannibal’s pride wouldn’t allow it for anything short of near unconsciousness.  
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Hannibal sat heavily on the bed and Will breathed out before making his way back to bed too. They both laid there in the dark for a while before Hannibal sighed and rolled over, nestling his body into Will’s, he places an open mouthed kiss to Will’s chest before settling down. Will kissed his forehead and fought back the tears.

“I don’t want to do this to you, Hannibal.” Hannibal breathes out softly, “you are not doing this to me, Will. I am doing this. You are no more than a variable to the situation.”  
Will flinches a little and Hannibal kisses Will's neck in apology, “I did not mean it like that, Will and you know that. I only meant to say that your concerns are valid ones and perhaps it is time that I retire.”

“I’m starving you,” will chokes out. Tears that he’d held back before finally spilling out onto his cheeks. Hannibal can probably smell the salt but he doesn’t say anything, only nestles himself down farther against Will’s side. “Will, if I wished to I could go and you would never know. You are trying to take responsibility for my decisions and it is not something you should, or need to do.”

Will doesn’t know how to respond, his chest aches and Hannibal’s skin, despite being cool to the touch, seems to burn him wherever it touches.

God, he doesn’t know what to do here, what is right and what isn’t. Hannibal snuffles into Will’s chest, already almost back to sleep and Will just holds him, eyes wide open, tears still flowing.


	8. Chapter 8

In the morning Will pushes himself out of bed with a weary sigh, he hadn’t been able to sleep and had instead stayed up watching Hannibal, storing the way his nose scrunched up when he dreamed, the way his pale eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, and the way he breathed away in the deep recesses of his mind where he was confident that he would never lose them.

He rubs at his eyes as he enters the kitchen, bright sunlight streaming in through the large bay window and stinging his eyes. He makes two bowls of plain oatmeal and tops it with canned peaches, muttering to himself about what Hannibal didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and canned fruit was supposed to be better on a sensitive stomach anyway. That was at least what his late night googling had told him anyway.

He pours them both a glass of apple juice and places everything on a tray before carrying them up to the bedroom, waking Hannibal with a kiss. While Hannibal is half hardheartedly picking at his own bowl Will begins looking for possible clues in between bites, flipping through the crime scene pictures that somehow always migrated to their bedside table despite Will’s best efforts to keep his work out of the bedroom.

“Are these the pictures from the most recent scene?” Hannibal asks glancing over at him. “Yeah. Her name was Suzie Allen, she taught 8th grade English at the local middle school.”

Hannibal hums deep in his throat, picking up another picture. “Do they all work with children?”

“No—” he starts, but then pauses. “Yes. They do.”

It wasn't a direct connection like there would be if he was only murdering school teachers which was probably why they hadn't thought of it until now, but Hannibal was right the six victims had all had jobs that would bring them in contact with children. The first victim had been a daycare worker, the second a social worker, the third a librarian, the fourth a ER doctor, the fifth a mall cop and the sixth a teacher. 

That changes things. The kind of anger present in these murders took on a whole new light when you think about it as someone trying to protect children, although Will doubted that if they poked around in the women's backgrounds they would find anything too terribly damning, The Siren struck Will as someone who stretched the normal into the horrible.

Will wonders if the killer had recently had a child with someone or he ran into an old abuser, something that triggered a protective urge that was more destructive than helpful.   
Then he remembers the man from the first scene.

He’d been hanging around the scene for a while before Will had got there according to Jack and he'd given Will a weird feeling. Part of it had been the way he stared but most of it was the fact that the man had a baby — a girl if the bow holding her wispy blonde hair back was anything to go by — strapped to his chest causing Will to remark that a murder scene was an odd place to have daddy-daughter day, he'd assumed it was morbid curiosity but now Will was considering that it could have been something more.

“I think you just cracked the case.” Will says with a laugh.

“What will you do now?”

“There was a man at the first scene, he had a baby strapped to his chest, his daughter I think. I'm going to find him.”

“The child,” Hannibal says. “What will you do?”

“I'm not orphaning her, if that's what you're asking.” Will snaps, fingers clenching. They wouldn't have another Abigail on their hands.

“I wasn't implying that you were planning on it. Although, it is interesting that that is what you thought I meant. What are you planning, dear Will?”

“I'm planning on stopping this before his daughter ends up in the crossfire. He’s only getting angrier.” Will says picking up his phone and opening a web browser. He remembers that the man was dressed in a suit and had a bag filled with papers thrown over his shoulder with him which meant that he probably worked in an office.

Not actually the best place for a baby.

The first victim — Marissa Bush — had worked at a daycare outside of Richmond so that's where he starts. Unfortunately, and for obvious reasons, they didn't have a list of families that used the facility so the most he could do until Monday was get the hours they were open.

7am to 7pm, Monday through Friday.

Will swallows, and closes his eyes as Hannibal placed his half full bowl of oatmeal on the bedside table and sinks back into the pillows, eyelids drooping, still exhausted from the night before.

WIll swallows. 

It would seem everything was coming to a head much too fast.


	9. Chapter 9

Unfortunately Will doesn't get a chance to make it to the daycare because at eight am on Monday he’s pulled out of bed by a call from Jack.

A seventh victim had been found around 4:15 that morning by a man on his way home from a business trip. He’d pulled over for a nap and seen the woman in the swamp next to the road. They were lucky this time, they appeared to have gotten there early enough that the water hadn't had time to do The Siren's dirty work. He was getting sloppy.

Will’s almost done when he gets the call anyway but Jack still shoots him a glare when he pulls out his phone right in the middle of a word. Normally he'd ignore the unfamiliar   
number but he has nothing to gain from looking at this scene any longer, talking to a telemarketer for a few minutes isn't going to hurt anyone let alone the victim. Will already has a suspect anyway.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hello, this is Reema Alam at Holy Cross calling in regards to one Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you were listed as his Emergency Contact.”

Will’s heart sinks and he walks farther away from the scene, Jack makes a move to follow him but stops when Will shakes his head. “Yes, Hannibal is my boyfriend,” and that is such an inadequate description of what they are to each other. “What happened?”

“Your boyfriend collapsed while seeing a patient this morning and was rushed here. We would appreciate it if you could come down. Dr. Lecter has yet to regain consciousness.”  
Will doesn’t spare the scene another glance.

“Thank you for calling,” he says left hand digging in his pocket for his keys as he stalked towards his car, palms sweaty and slippery. “I'm on my way.”

“Where the hell are you going, Will?” Jack says storming after him. “The hospital.” Will says slamming his car door open. “Hannibal collapsed.”

Will doesn't wait for Jack to say anything more, he's pulling out and onto the road within the next minute.


	10. Chapter 10

When Will gets to the emergency room the place is teeming with activity but he pays it no mind, his singular focus is on the front desk. He must look like something is wrong because the tired looking woman at the front desk doesn’t make him wait.

“How can I help you, Sir?”

“My boyfriend was brought in earlier after collapsing at work. I – “ Will stops. “Can I see him?”

She smiles at him sympathetically.“What would your boyfriends name be?”

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” The nurse nods and begins typing, her eyes scan the screen in front of her before she nods to herself and looks up, “Yes, we admitted him and moved him to a room on the second floor. Come with me.”

Will matches her fast paces step for step. She leads him up a flight of stairs and down a long white hallway that gives Will near tunnel vision before turning into room 234 where he could see Hannibal’s sandy-haired head poking out from behind the privacy curtain.

She hands him a clipboard and gives him a kind smile, the edges of her thin lips turning up and making her tired face seem younger and friendlier. “If you could return this to his doctor it would be greatly appreciated. He’ll be fine, Mr. – “

“Graham. Will Graham.”

“Don’t worry too much, Will. His doctor should be in to speak with you in a little while.”

Will nods and somewhat rudely turns away and makes his way around the corner of the gray cloth, the clipboard gripped tightly in his sweaty hand. He sees Hannibal’s feet first, covered by a beige scratchy blanket and his eyes slowly make their way up his body.

Left hand – IV attached to a clear bag of fluid. Saline probably.

Left ring finger – pulse oximeter.

Torso – covered in a cheap hospital gown. Wires leading to an EKG. He wonders where Hannibal’s suite went.

Face – thin, exhausted, sick.

Will swallows hard and closes his eyes before opening them again.

“Hannibal,” he says, grabbing Hannibal’s wire-free hand.

Hannibal’s decline, while obvious to Will had been something they had danced around, largely because Hannibal seemed resolute in his decision and refused to let Will take responsibility as evident by the last time they discussed the issue. He closed his eyes for a moment before setting to work on the paperwork surprised that he was actually able to answer everything. How intertwined their lives had become.

He lets go of Hannibal’s hand reluctantly and hands the clipboard off to a passing nurse and slips back inside the room, grabbing Hannibal’s hand once more. Will leaned awkwardly across from the chair he’d taken up residence in, his head landing somewhere near Hannibal’s hip, their hands still clasped together.

He stays like that for a while just breathing, slowly and deeply, some of his panic wearing away. The beep of Hannibal’s heart monitor acts as a tether keeping his thoughts from drifting away into what ifs.


	11. Chapter 11

He comes to the surface slowly, aware of fingers in his hair and voices.

“....you believe that I experienced a minor cardiac event?”

Will flinches and he feels Hannibal’s hand still before returning to stroking their way through his curls.

“Yes, Dr. Lecter. Your heart seems to be showing signs of stress.”

“I see.”

Papers rustle and Will imagines the doctor flipping through the paperwork that Will had filled out.“You mentioned that you’ve experienced severe nausea and vomiting for several months now. Why didn’t you seek medical treatment before it got this bad?”

“I believed somewhat foolishly that I could handle it.”

“Prior to your to the onset of these problems were there any sudden changes in your lifestyle?”

Hannibal doesn't miss a beat, “None that I can think would cause this.” Will clenches his fist in the blanket. 

“You understand how this looks, Dr. Lecter? You’ve put me in a difficult situation. What would you do if you had a patient that presented with such pronounced weight loss, abnormal blood counts, elevated liver enzymes, fainting, brittle hair, signs of dental decay, and now cardiac symptoms?”

“I would admit and then seek a psych consult on account of suspected Anorexia Nervosa or Bulimia Nervosa. ”

“Yet you wish to sign out AMA? If your suffering this is the best place for you to be, safest even.”

“Yes. I am not a danger to myself and am certainly not suffering from any such condition. You must know the statistics for such a disease presenting in someone my age let alone in a man, I have been sick and have been ignoring it but this has been the wake up I've needed. It was only a case of abnormal rhythm that led to my collapse, nothing further, showing stress but nothing beyond?” Hannibal paused “as I thought, I will follow up with my GP and go from there. I do not need to be detained here.”

There is an audible sigh, “I can't keep you but you must understand how serious this actually is, Dr. Lecter. I will be back with your discharge papers in an hour or so.”

Will only sits up when he’s sure that the retreating footsteps are far enough away. Hannibal stares back at him, face impassive. Will clears his throat of the lump that had developed there, “your heart?”

“It is fine, Will. It’s only showing signs of stress, it is nothing serious. You should go back to sleep.” Hannibal says, tracing the dark circles under Will’s eyes with a finger. “I think I will move back to the guest room tonight, you need to get a proper night’s rest.”

“The hell you will, Hannibal.” Will says sharply, although he gives in and lays his head back down. Hannibal runs one hand up and down his back in an attempt to sooth him while his other finds its way into Will’s curls again, nails gently scraping against his skull. Hannibal means it to be comforting but it only seemed to remind Will of what he was actually doing to the man in the hospital bed. No matter what Hannibal said Will knew that if Will hadn’t forced the issue Hannibal wouldn’t be so sick, his heart wouldn't be 'showing signs of stress.'

“I'm scared,” Will finally says, throat tight and eyes burning. " I'm scared i'm losing you, Hannibal."

“Come here,” Hannibal says lifting the corner of the hospital blanket for Will who takes the hint and climbs up, pausing only to remove his shoes. Hannibal resumes his previous ministrations and Will feels his body relaxing under his talented hands even as his mind continued to rage.

“Go to sleep, Will.” Hannibal rumbles, accent thick. Will rolls over and tucks his head into the hollow between Hannibal's neck and shoulder and feels the tears that had been threatening since he heard the doctor's words finally fall.

“Why are you doing this? You said it yourself you could have stopped at any point, long before we got here.” Hannibal shushes him, smoothing tears away from wind chapped cheeks.

“I adore you, Will.”

It's somehow an answer, the answer Will had been ignoring for too long now. He remembers telling Hannibal he would leave, he remembers screaming, he remembers how quickly Hannibal had agreed. Will had threatened to leave and that had scared Hannibal into doing this, and now he refused to let Will rescind his request. So that was it then? This ends in Hannibal wasting and his heart deteriorating, slowly dying. Or it ends with blood.

“Sleep, Will. I am here.” Some deep dark part of Will whispers 'for now' and Will tries to push it from his mind. Will breathes in and holds his breathe, waits until he hears Hannibal’s exhale and breathes out.

He falls asleep a lot like this, his head on Hannibal’s chest, their breathes synced, Hannibal finger combing his hair, and Hannibal’s heartbeat singing him to sleep.

Hannibal had collapsed today and his body was slowly coming apart and Will’s resolve and mind were doing the same. What would life be like without Hannibal there beside him? His wit and his horrible, horrible jokes gone. The kitchen empty, no opera music narrating their lazy afternoons. No more danger, no more shared looks and no more exhilaration at the game they had played right under the FBI’s nose. 

He’d have to sell the house, it would be too empty. He’d — god, he’d be alone again.

Outside the window afternoon is turning into the early evening and the sky is aflame with color. Hannibal places a kiss on his forehead and something dies inside Will and is reborn, changed.


	12. Chapter 12

Will cancels his lecture the next day using one of his rarely used sick days and leaves around 5 to make the drive to the daycare. He drives in silence too jittery for music and still too tired for the news. Will doesn’t quite notice the time passing until suddenly there’s light on the horizon and the daycare is in sight. He parks on a side street with a clear view of the entrance so that he could observe the families coming and goings, see if he was right in his suspicions.

He’d made the drive in little under an hour so there was still a little while before people started arriving to drop of their kids. It gave Will time to contemplate what he was actually doing. He should have brought his suspicions to Jack. He wasn't going to. He’s not honestly even shocked that he was considering this. Really it had been leading to this from the moment that he didn’t turn Hannibal in and had instead curled into his side that night, feeling, despite everything, safe.

He wanted, needed, that safety to still be around.

If this man wasn’t the Siren then it would be another criminal that he hunted. Meat was what he was after at this point not justice, not entirely anyway. Although he would be lying if he said he didn’t hope that it was the Siren that he was hunting.

Around 6:50 cars starting arriving and Will watched the people come and go trailing sleepy children behind them like kites without any wind. Will didn’t see his guy in the first round of cars or the second but around 8 he finally sees him, a car seat with a sleeping bundle of pink in his left hand.

Will waited for him to come back out and get back in his minivan with a predator's eye.

That was an odd choice, Will thought. It was the kind of vehicle that someone buys after their third kid not their first, but it would, especially with the middle seats removed like Will could see through the slightly tinted windows, make a perfect transport vehicle for a recently deceased woman. He wondered if he did it with the baby in the car or not. Probably, he decided, finding a sitter at such strange hours and so often would certainly raise questions.

Will closed his eyes, he was at the cliff edge and he could still turn back. This was the Point of No Return. He thought of breakfast in bed and Hannibal's smile the day they first met, bright and happy, and every smile after that.

Will started the car and took the plunge.

Will’s original plan had been to discretely break into the man’s car and get a name and through that learn his habits, learn if he was the one killing these girls but he made it easy on Will when he didn’t go to an office in one of the many skyscrapers in nearby Richmond. Instead Will followed him to a much more seedy part of the famous city filled with closed down factories and boarded up buildings.

Will was beginning to believe that he had in fact got the right man, or at the very least he had someone who was doing something illegal. He finally stopped his minivan outside of what appeared to be an old abandoned apartment building.

Will checked that his gun was safely tucked into his waistband and that his pocket knife was tucked into his pants pocket and followed behind him, leaving the rest in the car. It was highly unlikely that there was anyone inside with him. The victims were found on the weekends or early on Monday mornings, although he could be changing his pattern in the hopes of passing his kills off as someone else's. He must know that the FBI was onto him, after all, all thanks to one miss Freddie Lounds.

Will counted to 200 and followed him through the door, being very careful to keep his footsteps light as he ascends the stairs. He hear hear him moving around on the second floor, his footsteps heavy. He didn’t seem to be aware that he’d been followed which would make Will's job much easier.

Will pulled his gun out of his waistband and held it up as he reached the second floor. There were doors on both sides and Will moved slowly down the hallway before coming to stop in front of a door that once must have been a soft brown once but was now nearly black with dirt, the once shiny number on the door were barely visible. 7A. Will breathed and placed his ear up against the door, listening carefully.

He could hear the splash liquid on wood floorboards and the smell of bleach drifted out from under the door. He would only have one shot at this, he knew, the element of surprise would only help him once, after that he would have very little to fall back on.

Will pulled out his phone and contemplated calling Hannibal just in case this went south. Finally he tapped out I love you and hit send before putting his phone back into his pocket and pushing open the door.

He took in the blood stained floor and the splatters on the wall, the woman’s body in the corner, and the man bent over, a sponge in his hand and fired.


	13. Chapter 13

Hannibal woke to the smell of meat cooking, his mouth watering at the smell.

He’d cancelled his appointments for the day but he was unsure why Will was home on a Tuesday afternoon when he should have been lecturing a bunch of young FBI hopefuls. Hannibal pushed back the heavy blue blankets and slid out of bed and into his slippers, following the scent like a bloodhound.

He thought he would be able to manage some of whatever Will was cooking without being sick, the nausea while ever present was not as demanding as it had been the night before. He wondered how much longer he’d have to suffer through this before his body finally adjusted to his new diet, he was aware that things were getting serious and he disliked the strain his body was showing even more than Will. He had not anticipated it being this bad.

Will was stirring something in a pot when he came into the kitchen, sunlight streaming in through the large windows and highlighting his curls, revealing the almost golden strands that were usually hidden by the darker ones, Hannibal smiled slightly. “Will,” he said and furrowed his brow at how Will jumped. “What are you doing home and what are you cooking? It smells mouthwatering.”

“It's, ah, beef stew. I thought you would like it.” Will turned then and Hannibal frowned, his hand delicately tracing the pattern of blood that still resided on Will’s cheeks, touch gentle, brow furrowed.

“What did you do today?”

“I hunted.”

Hannibal took the spoon from Will’s fingertips and placed it on the counter and led him to the stool at the counter, stared into his blown pupils. Hannibal licked his lips, “I assume the siren will strike no more?”

“There was one more victim. I took his keys and moved her to where she’ll be found. She was his niece, by the way, not his daughter, I was wrong. Her mother picked her up when he didn't.”

Hannibal kissed him then, soft and sweet, wiping Will’s tear streaked face with his thumbs. “You did not need to do this, Will.” He said, pulling back, accent thick. Will snorts. “You were killing yourself. I couldn't stand back and do nothing. I chose you over everything, you’ve won, Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal pierced his lips, “I did not force you into choosing me.”

Will snorts again finally looking a little more like himself. “You didn't have to, I love you, and it was killing me to see you like that.”

A timer goes off startling them both and Will stands, grabbing a bowl and pouring some of the soup into it. He all but forces Hannibal to sit then and hands the soup to him and doesn't relax until Hannibal has brought the spoon to his mouth, sipping at the broth before he tries the meat and vegetables. Will waits a little while before he finally sighs and sinks down in a chair next to Hannibal.

“We’ll have to talk about this. Lay down ground rules. I am not condoning you killing someone just because they stepped on your toes, metaphorically or physically. That is going to get you and me caught.”

Hannibal pauses and leans his head onto Will’s shoulder, relief making him soft and pliant. “I love you, Will.”

“I know. I love you, too.” Will says, placing a kiss into Hannibal’s still sleep tousled hair. “Eat.”

Hannibal does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:
> 
> An AU where Will asks Hannibal to stop killing and eating people and Hannibal goes along with it. Things seem normal for a few months but as time progresses Will discovers that Hannibal is losing weight and he comes to find out that it is because we hasn't been able to keep down any meal that contains meat when Hannibal has to make a quick exit during a meal. Hannibal explains to a shocked Will it isn't human and there are slight differences between that and the meat you would get from an animal that he can't handle after so long eating so much human meat. He explains that he will survive this and that it will just be a slow adjustment. Cue Will's internal struggle over whether to let Hannibal suffer and waste away or to kill. One life vs Potentially quite a few.
> 
> I'd also like to thank Jaysop for letting me take a crack at this prompt after she already had done it so masterfully and I have to tell you guys to go read Steak and Kidney Pie because I love it so much! I just hope that i was able to do the prompt justice.


End file.
